


T minus

by ShadowsOffense



Series: Arlathan's din'anshiral AU [10]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe of an Alternate Universe, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowsOffense/pseuds/ShadowsOffense
Summary: Yes, this is just copy and paste for the series:
Ok, there is a lot of background stuff to read, written by other authors, if you want to try this series. It's really good, so by all means go for it. But don't start here. You will be very, very lost. Read at least the first few chapters of Feynite's Looking Glass and then some of the Baby!Lavellan AUs. Readers' choice, but my favorite, obviously, is the Mana'Din AU... and the Sharkbait AU... and Aili in several AUs... and.... Yeah, just check all of that out first. You can work your way back to this one. In a few months. Probably.
Otherwise, please, skip this series.





	

Shemdirth watches as the mist of the Dreaming seeps through her fingers. Neither of them have bothered to shape the setting, although both have the skill. She can feel that he is here, somewhere. She sits, pulling her knees up to her chest and wonders how long he plans on watching her before he realizes this is not a trap.

She is not known for her patience, but there are always exceptions.

At last, a wolf slinks out of the mist. His eyes are still numerous, burning red. But his form has grown larger, teeth longer, fur less ordered. Or perhaps she just sees him differently now. Quirks of the Dreaming and all.

“My Lord Fen’Harel,” she leaps to her feet and bows, unable to help the pride in her voice that he has chosen to grant her an audience.

“Shemdirth,” he says, gravely. “We expected to hear from you months ago. Or not at all.”

He makes no apologies for the statement. Revolution is not a safe master. Just a necessary one. It has worn on him, she thinks. But he is the strongest of them, the best of them.

“There was a complication, but its fine, its fine!” she is nervous and it shows in her voice. “The Foci is in place...” she wrings her hands together.

“Good,” he turns away.

“Wait!” Shemdirth shouts, anxiety spilling out of her. “Heh. I mean, please wait? My Lord.”

Because Fen’Harel is patient and magnanimous, he does not even chide her the breech of protocol. “Yes?” he asks.

Shemdirth swallows. “I think it’s possible. That is, I have reason to believe with relative certainty that in your haste to end this very bloody conflict, which is quiet a noble goal that we should not in the least abandon, you have overlooked some probable and not at all insignificant consequences of creating a barrier between the Waking and Dreaming that might have heretofore unthought-of negative side effects, which I believe could be extremely catastrophic and merit rethinking the entire premise. In fact, there are several other options that, while they might not do as good a job of stemming the immediate atrocities as-” 

“Stop!” Fen’Harel snarls.

Shemdirth’s mouth snaps shut.

“I have _thought_ about this.” He tells her. “The time for doubts has past; every second we delay the rest of the enanuvis and nameless do nothing but slaughter the people to glut their own power. Return as quickly as you are able, I can not wait for you for long.”

“No.” Shemdirth slaps her hands over her mouth.

He stares at her.

Slowly, Shemdirth lowers her hands. She does not take it back. “There are people here worth protecting. The Veil, it will destroy so much. More than we realized.”

“I think,” Fen’Harel says with slow dignity. “I know more about it than you, child.”

“And I know that you don’t!” Shemdirth shouts, puffing up at his condescension, titles and ranks momentarily forgotten. “You have to reconsider you, you clod!”

Her chest heaves as the words echo in the air around them. Fen’Harel waits for them to fade. “Choosing to die with them will not save them,” he tells her, sad and aloof. Too proud to listen. “Better some should die now so the survivors may live free.”

She grits her teeth, to keep from screaming at him again. “But that’s not what’s going to happen, “she whispers. 

Angry tears burn in her eyes as he turns and walks out of the dream and her cheeks are wet when she wakes.


End file.
